I jerk my hand away from Jude and give Jack a panicked look like I need him to step in or save me; I don’t really know what to do at this point, we’ve already won one round, and I don’t feel like smiling.
Jude eventually gives up and walks to some other random girl that I can’t see through the tears of frustration in my eyes. When everyone has a chance to go, Max steps back in with Dustin behind him and gives a new challenge.
“All right, you’ve all done very well, but now we up the stakes. Everyone will be blindfolded. I know it feels like it defeats the purpose, but you have to not only keep a straight face but try to guess based on the two clues Dustin reads off—who the person in front of you is. Ivy, you’ll go first.”
This seems semi-hard. Most of the interns work together, but not all of us are close, and right now, I’m a little bit of a hot mess. I get handed a blindfold and put it on while everyone else is handed theirs.
“All right, Dustin will lead you to the person you need to convince to smile; remember, you have to both make them smile and guess accurately to get a point for your team.”
“Okay.” I stand, and a hand gently touches my lower back and leads me to the side. “Is everyone still sitting in the same place, or did everyone get shuffled.”
“Everyone,” Max says, with humor lacing his voice, “has been shuffled around, and they no longer have their blindfolds on; you may begin when you’re ready!”
Crap, I’m led toward someone.
“Am I allowed to touch them?”
“Only good touch,” Max says out loud. “And ask permission; we don’t want to get sued, ha, ha.”
“Again,” Dustin mutters behind me.
“It was the goat’s fault, and I’m not changing my story!” Max insists.
It’s the distraction I needed because what the heck did the goat do—you know what, never mind, I can’t even process the insanity that is our CEO right now. What’s his thing with farm animals anyway?
“Okay,” Dustin says behind me. “You have two minutes to make them smile.”
“Them?”
“We let people decide their own labels here, Ivy. Company policy.” Max says in a stern tone that almost makes me roll my eyes. I mean, I’m all for it. I just wish I knew if the person in front of me was Jude so I don’t experience more flashbacks of the cheating drama with the ex.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, what are the hints first?”
“Loves coffee. Teases. Oh yes, and he—thank you, good sir—has given permission to let you know that his favorite candy is vanilla Tootsie Rolls—bro, same! Got the five-pounder last night from Amazon, primed that shit so hard, so hard, like you don’t even know—”
Dustin clears his throat.
And Max just has to add. “…but like, the cherry’s good too. What? I want to be inclusive!”
“Two minutes start now,” Dustin says, and I’m standing in front of this guy, wondering who the hell—wait a second…
I think back.
Jack used to only buy that random children’s craft candy and give it out like it was the cool kind at Halloween. And in high school he’d constantly pop the Tootsie Rolls in his mouth when he was testing.
But lots of people like Tootsie Rolls, right?
I lean in, not realizing how close I am until I can literally feel him breathing, then put my hands on his shoulders.
I know those shoulders.
I know the weighted breaths he’s taking.
I know his smell.
I smile and then turn my head to the side of his. This is Jack, not like my Jack; wait, when did Stapler Boy become My Jack? No, like my partner, yes, that’s it. Partner. I know it. I know it’s him.
I get right up close to his cheek, then whisper in his ear. “Bet I could get you to smile if I kissed you.”
I cup his face with my hands, then whisper again. “I’ll take you on a Tootsie Roll date and even let you bring the stapler—wait, would that be a triple date?”
Time’s running out, and he isn’t budging.
So, I do what any desperate girl does in a weird situation.
I lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, then pull back and say, “Bet I know what would really make you smile.” And trail my hand down his chest and say again. “Remember the time Marselle shit her pants after eating all those beans on the class trip and lied to one of the football players that it was chocolate, and he tried to eat it?”
Laughter follows.
Including his.
“Come on, that was seventh grade!” he yells, then tugs down my blindfold and licks his lips. “Bet it was tasty.”
Wait, is he talking about shit or me?
His eyes go to my mouth, then back up again, and then he reaches for me. I’m literally in this weird trance with his gorgeous eyes and don’t even remember that people are around us.